Genesis Girl (Blank Slate #1) - Jennifer Bardsley Page 0,27
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But no matter why it happened, I’ve failed Cal. Seth didn’t come home for dinner after all. I failed, like the loser I am. Just like Headmaster Russell used to say about me during Discipline Hour. “You’re weak, Blanca. You need atonement.”
It’s all my fault.
I don’t know how I fall asleep, but I finally do, curled up on the marble floor. When I open my eyes, it’s the middle of the night, and a cold draft wakes me.
Cal has come home, opening the front door and bringing the chill in with him. “Blanca,” he’s says. “What are you doing down here? Why aren’t you in bed?”
I sit bolt upright and gasp for air. “Where’s Seth?” I ask. “Is he … ”
“Seth’s okay.” Cal sits down on the floor next to me. “It’s all right.”
“Where is he?”
“Back at the hospital, sleeping off the drugs. His nose is broken, and he has a couple of cracked ribs, but other than that, he’ll be fine. He’s coming home in the morning.”
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much joy and relief at the same time. Then I look down at Cal’s hands, and they’re bandaged too.
“What about you, Cal? Are you okay?”
“Never better.” Cal smiles. “I spent the past eight hours with my son.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Not yet.” Cal sighs. “Later. When the drugs wear off.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For failing you.”
“What do you mean?” Cal asks. “I’m the one who failed you. And Alan! I should have had bulletproof glass in the guard station. I should have—”
“Is Alan okay?”
“He’s not going to come home any time soon, but he’ll make it,” Cal says.
“I’m sorry Seth didn’t come home for dinner like you wanted.”
“Is that it?” Cal puts his arm around me and hugs me gently. “Oh, my precious girl. You have nothing to be sorry for at all.”
“But it’s all my fault! If it wasn’t for me, Seth could have gotten away.”
“But why didn’t you get away when you had the chance? I heard Seth tell you to run.”
“They were everywhere!” I pull myself back to look at him. “I couldn’t get to the house.”
“But why didn’t you get on the bike and go far, far away?”
“And leave the estate?” I ask, horrified.
Cal looks at me with equal horror. “Is that what this is about? You wouldn’t leave the estate because I told you not to?”
I don’t want to say it because I know he’ll be mad. But I have to, because Cal asked me a question. “I always follow directions. I’m a Vestal.”
“No,” Cal says, his voice going deep. “No. I was wrong. I was wrong to have bought you.”
I shake my head, but Cal keeps going.
“This whole thing was wrong!”
“No, it wasn’t!” I protest. But Cal’s not listening.
“I don’t want you to follow my directions anymore,” he says. “I want you to think for yourself, and I want you to make good choices for your own welfare.”
“Stop. Just stop. You know I can’t do that. You know that’s not how this works. You’re my purchaser. You need to tell me what to do.”
“No.” Cal shakes his head. “No more directions. You’ve got good instincts, and you can think for yourself. That’s my new request for you, for now and evermore.”
“No, I can’t. I’m sorry, Cal, but I can’t.” I say it again and again. I can’t stop saying it, even when Cal pulls me to my feet and tells me to go to bed.
“Get some sleep now, and we’ll talk about this in the morning.”
But I can’t move.
Cal considers me and my tears. “Look,” he says. “I’ll be honest. I don’t know what to do with you now. But I don’t want people to hurt you. I want you to have a real life. So we’ll figure this all out in the morning, okay?”
I nod, like I agree. Then I suck back the tears like I’ve been taught. Cry on cue. Stop crying. Tears are a tool.
I wander up to my cloister in a daze, forgetting to bolt the door.
But I can’t sleep. I’m a total wreck. It’s like a switch has gone off inside me and I can’t turn it back.
I’m sobbing. I’m raging. My old tricks don’t work anymore.
When Seth comes into my room the next morning, his face bandaged and swollen, I’m still a mess. He kisses my wet cheeks and whispers in my ear. “Blanca, what’s wrong? I’m okay. You’re okay. They were only some pictures.”